Frozen Heart
by Alydia Rackham
Summary: When Loki touches a mysterious stone, he has a vision: if he goes through with Thor's plan, he will die. He has no choice but to betray Thor to Malekith. But when Loki and Jane Foster get lost in an elvish cave of mirrors and magic, Loki will be forced to face that which he fears the most: the Truth. (formerly titled Splinters of Stars)
1. Chapter 1

_Noble adventurers and friends! Before beginning this journey, I must warn you of something vital: I will be composing this narrative at the same time as I am writing an original novel "Bauldr's Tears: A Retelling of Loki's Fate." I will be posting "Frozen Heart" here and publishing "Bauldr" on Amazon serially—writing TWO NOVELS AT THE SAME TIME. I have never before attempted this. Therefore, my wonderful friends, I am not afraid to say that I NEED YOUR ENCOURAGEMENT! Desperately! Let me know how you are liking this story with reviews! Download each book of "Bauldr's Tears" as it comes—you will love it, I can promise you that! _

_This will be my LAST VENTURE INTO THE LOKANE KINGDOM._

_After this, the "Bauldr's Tears" kingdom shall hold sway. _

_Come with me._

_And now, without further ado, my noble friends and allies, I hereby give you…_

FROZEN HEART

Alydia Rackham

VV

For Simon, Always

VVV

And Suzanne

My ally

VVVVVVVVV

_"Sometimes the heart sees  
_

_what is invisible to the eye."_

_-H. Jackson Brown, Jr_

Jane shivered, twin tears falling from her eyes and sliding heavily down her cheeks. The lifeless breeze touched her bare arms, and she wrapped them close to herself. She glanced up and to her right at Thor's towering form, his majestic, lionish head bowed, tendrils of his golden hair caught in moonlight and flamelight. His brow twisted, his eyes closed. He had not looked at her all evening.

Jane's attention trailed back out, past the stone railing, out over the silvery, rippling water…

Out at the fleet of boats, each laden with a splendidly-decked Aesir—eyes closed, beautiful faces white, fair hair braided with beads and jewels, beloved weapons laid across their still hearts. All drifting away from Asgard, away from their home, out across the open sea—out into eternity. All set to burning by keen-eyed archers' flaming arrows. And leading this procession of the dead was Asgard's beautiful queen, Frigga. Thor's own mother.

She'd died just today.

Earlier that afternoon, when Jane had found Thor hiding in the shadow of a pillar near Frigga's bier, he had told her—with stiff voice and averted eyes—that usually, Aesir lay in state for at least a week, so everyone could come and bring flowers and presents. But with war looming, and the clatter of ready armor resounding through every corridor…

Jane swallowed and looked down, a sharp stabbing constricting her ribs.

She hadn't wanted to hide from the danger like some little kid, but the queen had leveled a look at her and pointed so forcefully that Jane had lost her mental footing and found herself crouching in a corner behind some curtains. And before she knew it, a terrifying, pale-faced, dark-garbed invader and a beast that walked on two legs had blasted their way into the inner chamber and killed the queen.

Killed her. While she'd been protecting Jane.

Jane swiped the tears from her face, but the stabbing in her chest only got worse. She shut her eyes, the glow of the flames burning into her vision.

A flicker.

A bright, sudden flicker in the side of her mind.

She gasped, and straightened—opened her eyes.

It was gone.

She frowned, then quickly searched the crowd around her.

No one had moved. The wind rustled through their draping clothes again. Silence reigned, except for the listless flap of the banners, and the crackle of the torches.

_"__Jane._"

Her eyes went wide.

A voice—so distant, _so _far away that it sounded like more of an echo than an actual voice.

But it sang through her bones with absolute familiarity.

And it came from somewhere else.

_"__Jane."_

She turned her head, looked back in between the pillars of the shadowed building behind her. A bearded guard stood there, holding a drooping flag. He gazed out across the sea, and, taking advantage of his unobtrusive position, had allowed his tears to fall.

_"__Jane."_

Deep.

Down.

Beneath.

That's where it came from.

Jane shivered again, and set her jaw.

She backed away from Thor, turned, and soundlessly re-entered the open door. She whispered through an abandoned, marble passageway, her breathing unsteady, listening with all her strength.

_"__Jane…"_

She kept walking. The entirety of Asgard seemed as if it were draped in a shroud. Silence dominated every darkened hallway, and Jane fought to keep her tapping footsteps from disturbing it. The doorways stood abandoned, and the few guards she did spot leaned against walls, or covered their faces. Several times, she had to pick her way around the rubble of a fallen roof, or a toppled statue. She had no idea which way she was going. Nothing looked familiar.

_"__Jane…"_

She paused, then turned to her left, obeying the whisper of an echo.

She followed it, traipsing through the common rooms and cobbled courts, up staircases and through lines of graceful arches. She could feel the palace looming before her, though she rarely glimpsed its reaching spires. Her heartbeat staggered and her mind raced every which way, but she picked up her pace, too curious and confused to even call out in answer.

"_Jane…"_

Finally, she felt the palace itself swallow her. The air richened, and she drew in deep breaths of all the roses that had recently flooded the main chamber where Frigga had lain.

_"__Jane…"_

She stopped on a landing just outside the throne room.

To her right. A narrow stairway.

She hesitated. Bit her lip.

Started down.

It wound around and around, an occasional torch flaring to life as she passed, just barely lighting her way. Her silken dress and cape rustled around her.

The staircase opened up. She slowed down, and eased out onto a dimly-lit stone platform.

Away in front of her stretched a long, wide, low-ceilinged hallway. On either side stood square chambers divided from each other by white walls.

Cells.

She sucked in her breath and froze.

But nothing moved. All of the cells stood empty and dark.

Her brow furrowed.

Except one.

One, off to the right, in the second block. Its opening glowed with a slightly-golden tinge. A forcefield of some kind, probably.

And a voice.

A voice—raspy, broken. It was coming from that one.

Jane's lower lip trembled. She crept closer. Her soft soles made no sound.

She listened.

"The sky is dark and the hills are white  
As the storm-king speeds from the north to-night;  
And this is the song the storm-king sings,  
As over the world his cloak he flings:  
'Sleep, sleep, little one, sleep;'  
He rustles his wings and gruffly sings:  
'Sleep, little one, sleep…"

Jane stepped very slowly, watching that forcefield wall, until she could peer into more than half of it. She frowned, searching it…

Jerked to a stop.

Groped out and back with her left hand, and caught hold of the cold edge of an opposite, cattycorner cell. Her throat closed. She stood in a full length of shadow. She desperately hoped he couldn't see her.

A young man.

He sat back against the white back wall of that cell.

Everything in that little space had been smashed and strewn out all across the floor. Jane's eyes ran across bits and flinders of what had once been very fine furniture, ripped-out pages of books, a glass tabletop shattered on the floor…

His bare feet were bleeding.

Bright blood stood out against the floor…the walls…his pallid skin…

Jane felt her chest and forehead tightening again.

He wore dark, loose trousers, a homespun, long-sleeved gray shirt with the front of the collar laying open. His long raven hair lay torn all around his narrow, snow-white finely-formed and delicate face. His lips looked grey, dark circles framed his glassy, distant and shadowed eyes. He blinked dully, and his eyebrows drew together.

"On yonder mountain-side a vine," he whispered through his soft, chapped lips.  
"Clings at the foot of a mother pine;  
The tree bends over the trembling thing,  
And only the vine can hear her sing:  
'Sleep, sleep, little one, sleep;  
What shall you fear when I am here?  
Sleep, little one, sleep…"

Jane's mouth opened, and her heart caught.

She _recognized _him.

She knew those classical features, she'd heard that lilt of phrase before.

On the news. During the invasion of New York.

All the pieces instantly clicked together in her mind.

This was _Loki._

_Loki._

Rage flared through her…And then her chest tightened.

Her rage washed away as quiet again filtered through her mind.

Loki.

Thor's younger brother.

And…what was it he was singing…?

He swallowed. It looked like it hurt. His brow knitted.

"The king may sing in his bitter flight," he gasped.  
"The pine may croon to the vine to-night,  
"But the little…" His voice snagged in his throat. And he spasmed forward, his hands jerking up. His left hand suddenly twitched toward his chest.

Jane covered her mouth.

Loki caught at his collar, and sat back against the wall. His arm fell limp. His eyes rapidly searched the ceiling of his cell.

And a tear—as if it was the last one his entire being possessed, as if it wrenched from his spirit—bled down the side of his face.

"…But the little snowflake at my breast," he said hoarsely.  
Liketh the song _I_ sing the best.  
'Sleep, sleep, little one, sleep;  
Weary thou art, anext my heart;  
Sleep, little one, sleep…"

He stopped. Swallowed again. And closed his eyes.

Jane gradually lowered her hand from her mouth.

A lullaby.

Shaking, she wiped at her eyes, helplessly standing away from the wall.

The echo of a voice had ceased a long time ago. And her heart filled and clamped inside of her so hard that the pain nearly doubled her over.

She turned toward the staircase, then had to gather her strength—her legs had turned to water. Then, finally, she hurried away, careful to make no sound, rushed up the stairs and, panting and nearly blinded, made her way straight to her room.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVV

Loki opened his eyes.

Just halfway.

His skull felt as if it were splitting crosswise, his body as if he'd been beaten half to death with a club. He shifted his numb left shoulder—hm. He was lying on it.

He swallowed. His mouth felt like sandpaper. He sighed stiffly, and adjusted his head.

Glass jingled in his hair. He closed his left eye, but with his right he blearily glanced around his cell.

It was apparently night. The lights had automatically dimmed, as they did every evening two hours till midnight. He hazily watched the energy slowly crawl up and down the borders of the forcefield. Listened to it softly buzz…

He blinked. Slowly, slowly frowned.

Lifted his head, just one inch.

Something…

Something glittered. Over there, by his toppled desk.

He blinked a few more times. Lay there for an hour longer.

It glittered at him again.

He groaned out a sigh, and lifted himself up onto his elbow. Glared over at the irritating, glittering thing.

Finally, he turned over, pushed off of the broken glass and got up onto his knees. Sat there in a kneeling position for another hour, his head hanging, his hair a curtain around his face.

He reached out, felt for the wall…found it.

Leaned sideways against it, and crawled to his feet.

Stood for half an hour more, eyes shut.

Then, he shuffled forward, his toes stinging, until he stood in front of that broken desk. He frowned. Sank down into a kneeling position again, and absently fumbled around underneath it, without looking.

His hand met a thin chain. His fingers caught it up, and he dragged it out.

He lifted it up, and squinted at it.

His face cleared—so did his vision.

A pendant dangled from the chain—a silvery, sparkling setting, in the heart of which sat a fathomless violet stone, in the depths of which seemed to wink all the stars in the universe.

For an eternity, Loki sat there, staring at the familiar—but _utterly impossible_—stone hanging from that chain.

Then, he shook himself.

He must be dreaming. Or hallucinating.

Or fooling himself.

Carelessly, he tipped sideways and fell from his knees to a sitting position, gripped the stone up in his hand and thought about tossing it against the forcefield. He glanced down at it again, his vision flickering in and out. He felt like he might lose consciousness.

Better…to be safe…

He opened up the chain and slipped it over his head, then let it fall down underneath his collar. It jingled against…something else he wore there.

Hm.

He lay back down, onto his back, his knees bent up, his hands curled on his chest. And he stared blankly at the ceiling, letting unconscious tears trickle down his temples.

_To be continued…_

_Review, my friends! Tell me if you want more!_

_And go download "Bauldr's Tears: A Retelling of Loki's Fate" on Amazon Kindle! Feed your starving author and entertain yourselves! Nothing lost, everything gained! :) (If you type in "Bauldr's Tears" it will take you to all the books in the series!)  
_


	2. Chapter 2

_Thanks so much for all of your lovely reviews! They have greatly encouraged me! I hope you continue to enjoy! Please let me know if you do!_

_VVVVV_

CHAPTER TWO

VVV

_"__I hold with those who favor fire.  
But if it had to perish twice,  
I think I know enough of hate  
To know that for destruction ice  
Is also great" _

_–__Robert Frost_

VVVVV

"What are we doing? Exactly?" Jane asked breathlessly as she hurried to keep up with the other woman's long, swift strides. Jane's tall, beautiful, forbidding escort didn't glance at her—didn't shift her coal-black eyes from the end of the long hall in front of them; didn't turn her raven head even an inch toward Jane. Her polished armor clinked softly as she walked, her boots tapping firmly on the hard floor.

"Thor is taking you away from Asgard," the woman answered, her voice a hard line. Jane gave her steps an extra burst of speed. She'd just seen this girl _dismantle_ a handful of male guards in her room—knocked them out cold in a noisy eyeblink. And her long sword now gleamed in its sheath like a veiled threat. Jane had to force her words out.

"So, why is that?"

"Because you have the Aether inside you," the woman said flatly. "And as long as you remain here, Malekith will attack us. Our shield has been damaged and Heimdall cannot see their ships. Keeping you here would prove fatal for all of us—and for you."

"Is this a…legal thing you're doing? Helping me leave?" Jane pressed. "Because I couldn't help but notice that you had to…knock out my guards."

"We are committing high treason." The woman arched an eyebrow, and gave Jane a slicing side-look.

"Oh," Jane balked, staring at her even as the woman returned her attention to the hall. "Well…thank you."

"I'm not doing it for you," the woman snorted. "Thor has been my prince and friend for almost a thousand years. Anything I do here is for his sake." She drew herself up. "If it weren't for you and your meddling with forces you can never understand, the queen and hundreds of others would still be alive. If it were put to me, I'd kill you myself."

Jane felt all the heat drain out of her head. She faltered back…

Caught sight of figures at the end of the hallway.

Thor—dressed in his armor and spilling scarlet cape, Mjollnir at his belt.

And next to him, wearing an elegant leather riding coat trimmed in green and gold—which framed his lean, lithe form; his black hair tamed and combed back from his white, sharp face; his hands cuffed in front of him…

Loki.

Jane's heart skipped three beats.

_But the little snowflake at my breast  
Liketh the song I sing the best.  
'Sleep, sleep, little one, sleep;  
Weary thou art, anext my heart;  
Sleep, little one, sleep…_

Jane's hands turned to ice, and she fell back even further. The woman marched up to Thor, then turned, frowned, and impatiently beckoned to Jane. Jane closed her fingers and ventured closer.

Loki turned his attention from Thor, and met her gaze.

Pale green eyes—bright and alert. Handsome, and staggeringly cold. He jerked his chin.

"This is so rude of you, Thor," he glanced at him. "Am I going to have to make my own introductions?"

"We don't have time—" Thor started.

"I'm Loki," he cut in, facing her, a challenging smile flicking across his lips. "You may have heard of me."

Jane nodded, gripping her hands together.

"Yeah, you're…Thor's younger brother."

His eyebrows twitched together. The other woman stared at Jane. But Jane couldn't move.

"I'm…" Jane gulped, her brow knitting. "I'm so sorry about your mother."

Loki stared at her. All levity vanished from his face, and his mouth tightened. He swallowed.

"Sif," Thor said, drawing up close to Jane's escort. They turned their backs on Loki and Jane and started whispering to each other. Jane shifted her weight. Loki watched her.

"I'm…" Jane glanced around, everywhere but at him. "My mom died when I was little. She had a brain tumor. My dad re-married a really nice lady, and I sometimes call her Mom. She lets me stay with her sometimes, even now, but…It isn't quite the same. And then…Dad died, too. Car accident." She shrugged one shoulder, and dared to look at Loki, feeling like she was babbling. He was staring at the floor.

"So, I kinda…" she said quietly. "I kinda know what that's like. A little."

"Do you?" He lifted his face, his pale gaze frosting over. He leaned toward her, lowering his voice to a deliberate hiss. "My mother was murdered while I sat trapped in a cell. Murdered because she was protecting something Malekith wanted." He flashed his eyebrows. "And…refresh my memory. What did he want, again?"

Jane shivered, stunned right down to the floor. Loki narrowed his eyes at her, and straightened back up.

"Come," Thor barked, turning back toward them. "We must go."

VVVVVVVV

Cold, dirty wind gusted through Loki's hair and coat. Broken shadows flashed over the hovercraft as it swept between the gray ruins of Svartalfheim like a speedboat. His heart hammered erratically around inside his chest as he fought to catch his breath.

Thor's fist hovered an _inch _from his face.

An argument.

Screaming viciously into each other's faces, Loki wrenching at his bindings to no avail, Thor slamming him back down against the metal wall of the craft…

Loki now stared up into Thor's snarled features, his burning eyes…

And then…

A shattered look abruptly transformed Thor's face.

A choking sound, and a shaking withdrawal.

"She would not want us to fight."

The words hit Loki. Shocked his bones.

Suddenly, his muscles weakened, and his clenched fists let go.

Suddenly, in the brightest light of his memory, a blonde, bloody-nosed little boy stood just there, gritting his teeth and saying those exact same words.

Stinging warmth scalded the edges of Loki's heart.

"Well," Loki allowed, as that little boy faded away, leaving the rugged, shadow-cast man before him. "She wouldn't exactly be shocked."

And he smiled at Thor. A fragile, knowing, careful curve of the lips that took all his strength.

Thor softened. _Returned _the smile. Crooked and pained.

Loki gazed into Thor's shining blue eyes—and his heart panged.

And it kept hurting.

Nothing felt right. Back in Asgard, Loki's smooth and cocky façade had felt like three pieces of broken glass he was trying to press back together—but they bit into his bleeding hands. As he had stridden down the hall beside Thor and as they had made their escape, Loki knew he was over-compensating; being _too _quick, _too _clever, _too _eager, _too _sarcastic, _too _playful, _too _corrective. He had let himself slip all the way into the fake and childish, letting words just fly out of his mouth like cracks of a whip, allowing the sass and banter to distract him, just _distract_ him...

Then, all at once, he and Thor had gotten into it. Clawed and howled at each other, their barely-bandaged wounds ripping open, their hearts bleeding out all over all around them.

And in the midst of the fray, Loki lost hold of the three pieces of his glass façade.

Now, as he watched Thor, feeling his own hands shake; reality—everything he had once known for sure and used as a foundation—swam and shifted restlessly inside him. In the back of his throat and the center of his chest, he grappled with the shivering, slippery sensation that at any moment the hinges might all come off—and he'd start ripping at his hair again and writhing and screaming. But this time, he would not be able to stop.

Thor backed away from him, and shook his head as the wind raked through his mane.

"I wish I could trust you." He turned his mighty shoulders, and faced the front of the boat, as if meaning to let that statement lie…

But Loki sensed him waiting.

Slowly, Loki pushed off of the edge of the boat, that shivering feeling sliding down into his gut and pulsing through his blood. He stepped up next to Thor, into his peripheral vision. Thor glanced sideways at him. Loki met his eyes.

"Trust my rage," he bit out.

Thor just looked back at him. His jaw tightened, and his gaze hardened.

The expression made Loki's churning gut settle.

And he instantly latched onto that semi-solid feeling, clamping down on it and forcing his blood to cool. He clenched his own jaw, and gazed out front at the gray wasteland ahead of them.

Thor had a plan. He had told Loki, in detail, what they were to do once they had tracked down Malekith. It would involve some play-acting, some subterfuge, a little sleight of hand and then a single hammer-fell. They had pulled the same trick several times in the past, they two. And this time, unlike Loki, Thor seemed inwardly collected. Steady.

Loki glanced over at him, considering his stern, silent profile.

Calm. As Thor always was when something had gone terribly wrong.

Without fail. Whenever Loki spun out in a squall—

Thor became his keel.

Loki swallowed, facing front.

This could be done. Thor knew what he was doing, and he _would _perform. Knowing that, for sure and certain—Loki could play his own part. And he _would, _per Thor's direction, stay away from that internally-burning giant monster thing if it came down to tooth and nail. Mjollnir's blunt-force-trauma could certainly take care of it. Malekith was the one he wanted to see bleeding to death in the dirt, anyway.

They could do this. They could.

Together, they could.

They had to.

"Mhm."

Loki frowned.

The small, brown-haired, fragile woman lying in the bow of the boat had stirred, pushing off her blankets. She turned halfway over, her brow furrowing. Her eyes stayed closed.

Loki shook his head to clear it. He had completely forgotten about her.

"Jane?" Thor stepped toward her.

"Mmm," she grunted, uncomfortable, and pulled her left hand out from under her covers. Thor knelt down beside her and stroked her hair.

"Jane, are you—"

"Loki," she said.

Plain as day.

Loki straightened.

She reached out groggily into the empty air, her eyes still shut.

"Jane, I am right here," Thor touched her hand.

"Mm!" she said in irritation, feebly knocking him away. "Loki."

"She wants you," Thor turned to him.

"Me?" Loki cried. "Whatever for?"

"How would I know?" Thor snapped. "The Aether is still inside her, remember. Get down here."

"But—"

"Loki!" she said, her head turning back and forth. She still had not opened her eyes.

"Get _down _here," Thor commanded. Loki's nose wrinkled, and he eyed her sideways. He twisted his left wrist inside his manacles, then edged forward and got down on his knees with purposeful awkwardness. He huffed out a sigh.

"_What_ do you want me to do?" he demanded, looking to Thor.

"Loki," Jane shifted toward him, her hand groping through nothingness.

"Take her hand."

"I'm not going to touch—"

"_Do it_."

Loki gave Thor a dirty look, then lifted both of his bound hands.

"I don't—" he started.

She caught his fingers.

Lightning punched his brain.

_Blinding _light, wracking pain—

He stared straight into the blazing eyes of that _thing_.

Utterly clear, utterly focused, utterly real.

That monster. That burning, smoldering creature of rock and shadow that had broken its way out of Asgard's dungeons…

Crackling and smoking and hissing right before him. Both of its massive, claw-like hands crushed Loki's upper arms. Loki's chest pressed up against its chest—he could feel his own skin boiling. But that _pain_—that shaft of punctured pain straight through his chest—his breastbone was in pieces, his spine severed—he could _feel it! _He couldn't breathe, couldn't breathe…His eyes widened…he heard Thor's voice…

Thor was off there, somewhere. Too far away.

And this small woman—Jane.

Somewhere else.

And Malekith's scent hung in the air.

Loki's vision faded.

His head snapped back.

He blinked.

"What is it?" Thor asked quietly. "Is the Aether hurting her?"

Loki turned, and stared at him.

All of his blood congealed, and his heart slowed to nothing.

The three of them still whizzed along through the ruins upon the flying boat. The wind still whipped through their clothes as the shadows of the ruins crossed them.

Jane Foster's soft, cold fingers slackened, and let go of Loki's.

"She's fine," Loki said, monotone. As if someone else was talking.

Slowly, he sank down to sit on the hard floor, and said nothing else. His eyes unfocused, and he listened to the whistling wind.

He bit the side of his tongue.

Thor's plan might succeed. It might not.

But all of that had just become irrelevant.

Because either way, this plan was going to get him killed.

_To be continued…_

_Review!_

_(and, if you're in the Christmas mood this month :) take a look at my novel "Christmas Parcel" on Amazon! It's a fun one!)_


	3. Chapter 3

_Oh, thank you so much everyone! You have no idea how much your kind words mean to me!_

_For the second section, I listened to "Bellevue Carol – Bruce Broughton"_

_Enjoy!_

_VVVVV_

CHAPTER THREE

_So cut through the heart, cold and clear  
Strike for love and strike for fear  
There's beauty and there's danger here  
Split the ice apart, _

_Beware the Frozen Heart…_

_-Frozen_

It started in his feet.

Marrow-penetrating cold.

It bit into Loki's toes, his heels, at the same instant that the sharp, sub-sonic pulse of a starship cut the filthy air.

And the ice began crawling up his calves.

Thor landed their hoverboat in the shadow of a jagged boulder. The hull hit the dirt with a _thud _that jolted them all sideways, but Loki suddenly couldn't summon extra breath to jibe him. Instead, he steadied himself against the railing, glancing reflexively over at little Jane.

She stood stone-still and blank-faced near the bow, her eyes dark, glassy and unnatural. The change had passed through her just minutes ago—and now neither Thor nor Loki said anything to her.

Only the Aether would answer if they did.

Thor strode up to her, his boots clanking, and picked her up. She didn't protest—didn't respond. Her hair fluttered. Thor lifted her out of the boat and set her down on the black dust, then disembarked himself. He turned and looked back up at Loki.

"Are you coming?"

Loki shivered, and closed his fingers. The frost claimed the rest of his legs…and then his middle…

He clenched his teeth, nodded, and forced his feet to shuffle forward.

His whole body felt heavy as stone. He reached the edge of the craft, clambered over the side, then thudded to the ground, barely catching his balance. His guts felt like rocks, his muscles like wire.

"Let's go," Thor muttered, lifting his face toward the cresting hill fifty metres in front of them. He put his arm around Jane and started forward, Loki trailing after.

He could feel the starship pulsing—like a low growl in the depths of the earth. And now, as he peered through the wind, he could see the huge, black top of it, its knife-like T shape silhouetted against the dead, writhing clouds.

He swallowed. His mouth felt like it was full of snow. It hurt to put one foot in front of the other—his boots dragged through the ashy soil.

Thor and Jane paused on the crest, and Thor gently pushed her back behind him and pulled Mjollnir from his belt. Loki hesitated, the nearness of the edge making his stomach slowly clamp until pulling in a breath was almost impossible.

Thor glanced back at him. Expecting. Loki clenched his teeth and edged closer, until he stood by Thor's right shoulder.

He looked down.

There, in the center of a barren, rocky, windswept valley…

Stood Malekith.

Dark, silent as a shadow, and forbidding as a sepulcher, his cape fluttering restlessly. A dozen guards, their expressionless, bone-white masks in place, waited behind their king, their weapons at the ready.

And beside him loomed that hulking, smoldering, horned monster, with eyes like coals and a throat like a furnace.

Frostbite slithered up Loki's spine.

"You know," Loki whispered to Thor. "This plan of yours will get us killed."

"Perhaps," Thor answered, his brow furrowing intently as he studied the horde below. Loki turned his head, and stared at him.

Waited.

But Thor did not suggest another option.

He didn't say anything at all.

Tears stung Loki's eyes.

And his heart started to hammer.

He couldn't control it—it just broke into a thudding panic, slamming against his ribs, his pulse knifing up through his neck and into his temples, pounding down into his stomach. His skin quivered and his throat latched as stabbing phantom pains danced around his breastbone.

He squeezed his fists until his knuckles whitened and his bones stood out.

A mighty shudder gripped his whole body.

Thor suddenly faced him. His eyes flashed.

"Loki?"

And, at long last…

The dam broke.

Burning ice washed through all Loki's veins. Storm-cloud blue raced across his skin, and scaly patterns lashed across the backs of his hands. His cheeks and lips and nose and forehead chilled to the depths of winter, and his vision opened and sharpened to a stunning clarity.

His heart instantly slowed to almost silent.

Every muscle calmed.

He blinked—and met Thor's gaze.

Thor's eyes went wide.

"Loki, no—"

Loki twisted his wrists.

The manacles snapped and fell loose.

He lashed out and grabbed Thor's right wrist.

Thor screamed.

The howl wrenched the air. Thor's bracer shattered off, and Loki's hand met bare skin—skin that hissed—dusty smoke rose. Loki gripped it harder.

Thor dropped Mjollnir. It struck the earth like a dead weight. Thor, keening in pain, fell down onto one knee.

Loki took a fistful of Thor's hair with his free hand, and with a sudden surge of bone-breaking strength, he _threw_ him down the hill.

Thor's great form crashed down through the rocks and soot, his cape tangling around him.

"Thor!"

Loki registered the quick sound right behind him. He turned and saw the little mortal start forward, another cry on her lips.

He snatched her up with one hand—closing his fingers around the front of her dress and jerking her into the air. He yanked her toward his face and bared his teeth.

She grabbed his wrist, gasped—her eyes widened and her face went white.

He whirled and stormed down the hill, his coat flaring out behind him, hauling the mortal along.

Thor, grimacing, scrabbled in the dirt. He tried to get up.

Loki threw the mortal down. She yelped as she hit the dirt.

Loki waved his hands across each other—a blue flash—

The Jotun ice casket landed squarely in his grasp. He aimed it—

And the next instant, a roaring blast of wind and sleet swallowed Thor, pinning him on his back, throat-deep in marble-like ice.

"_NO!" _Thor roared through his teeth.

"Thor!" the mortal tried to climb to her feet. Loki darted over to her and kicked her in the side.

She fell back down, yelping again. He planted his foot on her back. She shielded her head with quivering hands.

Loki lifted his face.

Malekith waited silently on the other side of a gasping Thor. The elvish king, his ivory face—one side flawless, the other side scarred beyond repair—unmoving, considered Loki. Slowly, he canted his ancient, elegant head.

"What are these?" he asked, his voice low and refined.

"Gifts," Loki replied, three layers of tone thrumming through his throat. "The firstborn son of Odin, to take as your captive. He will ensure that the All-Father of Asgard gives you no more trouble. And this—the mortal Aether-host you have been seeking."

Malekith blinked his delicate eyelids.

"And from whom do I have the pleasure of accepting this homage?"

"I am Loki, son of Laufey, son of Aldulfr, king of Jotunheim," he answered.

Malekith's expression changed when he heard the last two names. He nodded.

"You are not the stature I expected," Malekith remarked, stepping over Thor's frozen body. "Yet I see in you your grandfather's face and bearing."

"Loki, no!" Thor gritted, trying to twist against the ice. "Loki, I beg you, do not do this!"

Loki barely heard him. He held Malekith's iron gaze.

The elf strode up, and stood before him. For a long moment, neither moved. Then, Malekith glanced down at Loki's feet.

Loki lifted his boot off of the mortal and took one step back.

Malekith held out a hand, palm up.

And the mortal slowly lifted up into the air.

Paralyzed, her mouth open in a silent scream, her arms stretched out to either side and her back arched. She rose, as if on strings, up above all of their heads.

And the Aether began bleeding out of her.

From her mouth, her eyes her heart. Smokey tendrils snaked out through the air and stretched toward Malekith. They touched him, embraced him.

Loki watched.

"Loki, stop him!" Thor bellowed. "Loki, you must do something! _Please!"_

Loki ignored him.

Then, in a gusting rush, the last of the Aether sucked from her and slammed into Malekith.

His white face grayed. His eyes turned black.

He flung the mortal down. She struck her head and collapsed like a rag doll.

"Jane!" Thor wailed.

"I thank you, Your Majesty," Malekith inclined his head to Loki. "Your gifts shall be remembered."

Loki said nothing.

Malekith watched him a moment longer, then turned toward his guards.

"Pick him up." He pointed at Thor. The elves swarmed around him.

"_No!" _Thor snarled. "No, no—Loki! Loki, no!"

The elves scraped the edges of the ice casket that had formed around Thor, and they lifted him up, standing him on his feet.

Malekith flicked his wrist.

Black power shot from his fingers and struck the ice. It shattered and crumbled to pieces—

And lash-like bindings wrapped all around Thor's middle, tying his arms tight to his sides.

"Put him in the ship," Malekith ordered. The guards grabbed Thor by the shoulders and hair and twisted him toward the starship. Thor fought fiercely, gritting his teeth and catching Loki's gaze.

"I was wrong!" Thor shouted, tears running down his dirty face. "You are _not_ my brother!"

Loki blinked.

A soft _clink_ sounded underneath his collar. Something small fell and got caught down inside his breastplate. He forgot about it.

"Goodbye, Loki, son of Laufey," Malekith bid him. "May the snow fall ever fair upon your land."

Loki stood there. Malekith turned, and followed his troupe toward the towering ship. The mortal lay limp at Loki's feet.

Wind picked up. Tossed the earth. Swept dust across the retreating elves and Thor's sooty armor. Filthy clouds descended, swirling and bending overhead.

The wind turned cold.

And the elves vanished in the storm.

Loki turned, and faced the opposite direction. Frowned distantly at a ragged cliffside.

Took a step that direction. Then another.

His stride lengthened. Quickened. And in a matter of moments, he had left the valley behind.

VVVVV

Jane shivered. Her forehead furrowed. Very carefully, she blinked her eyes open.

White.

White all around her.

And cold.

She shivered harder, then jerked into a sitting position. She reached up with a numbed hand and dashed her hair out of her face…

Snow.

Snow lay in a wide, unbroken blanket all around her—and it covered her legs all the way up to her hips. Flakes of ice tumbled from the gray sky, blowing and swirling, hiding the landscape.

Jane's teeth rattled, and she staggered to her feet. Her head felt like it was…

She reached up and touched it.

"Ow!" she cried, gasping. She brought her hand down and stared at it. It was stained with blood. She hugged herself, scanning all around her, her mind swimming.

What had happened? Where _was _she?

Biting her lip, she tried to remember…

Malekith. And that thing that had killed the queen. They'd both been down in a dark valley, and then…

Loki. He'd suddenly turned into something else—something blue-skinned and red-eyed and vicious—

He'd thrown Thor to Malekith, and then he'd…

Jane's stomach turned over as she suddenly remembered the sickening feeling of the Aether draining out through her skin…

And the memory hit her.

Her lips parted, but she couldn't make a sound.

Malekith had it.

He had the Aether.

And he had _Thor_.

Her heart stumbled, and she covered her mouth with her hand. Tears pricked her eyes.

She spun around, searching, even as her feet stung with millions of needles and the icy wind lashed through her thin clothes.

She _had _to get out of this storm.

She started forward, slogging through the shin-deep snow. She wrapped her cape around her arms and lowered her head, clamping her jaw to keep from biting her tongue.

She couldn't tell how long or far she trudged—probably not nearly as long or far as it felt. But finally, _finally_…

Something rose up in front of her.

Tall. Broad. Dark. Looming and hard. She squinted up through the flying snow.

A cliff.

She couldn't feel her legs anymore. Her fingers, either, or her nose.

She groaned and blinked slowly. Her eyelashes had frozen.

She forced herself forward a few more steps, and leaned against the hard rock. The wind howled, gnashing its teeth.

She had to keep going. She had to.

It was either that, or sit down right here and die.

She squeezed her fists, and scooted her left shoulder along the cliff face, dragging her feet along. She closed her eyes, her eyebrows drawing together, as the chill gnawed its way into her bones. Five feet…Ten feet…Twenty feet…

The wall gave way.

She fell.

Crashed to her hands and knees, onto a rugged ice floor.

The wind quieted.

She blinked her eyes open, spasms of twitching seizing her body.

A gaping, hollow darkness.

A cave.

With every last shred of her strength, she pulled herself to her unfeeling feet, reached out and took hold of the craggy wall with her fingers, and crawled further inside—_anything _to get away from that wicked wind…!

Further in, further in. Blackness closed in around her. Groggily, she knocked the snow off her shoulders and shook off her cape, her lip trembling. Her footsteps sent scraping echoes dancing up against the solid ceiling.

But it didn't feel any warmer in here.

She clamped her arms so tight around herself she could hardly breathe. What breath did escape clouded in vapor around her face. She paused.

Frowned.

Deep inside…

A light.

Icy blue, and very faint.

But unmistakable.

She dragged herself forward, her knees weakening. At any moment they would give out, she would fall, and she wouldn't be able to get up again…

The tunnel bent. That's what it was, after all—a tunnel. And it curved slightly to the right. The blue light grew, sharpened…

Jane glanced down, and gasped. A blanket of white frost spread across the ground in short, prickly, icy spears—like grass. Her shoes crunched on it as she walked. And then…

She stopped.

And could look nowhere else.

Straight ahead of her, within a narrow alcove of rock, stood a tall man.

Or something that _looked _like a man.

Encased in ice.

He had a sharp, hawk-like face, with skin the color of the winter sea; lined patterns running back and forth across his forehead and cheeks. Jet black hair fell down to his shoulders. His head was bowed, his eyes shut. His elegant arms crossed over his chest, his right hand touching his left shoulder, his left hand touching his right shoulder. He wore a black riding coat, black trousers and boots—the edges of which glimmered with gold and silver.

The blue light hung just above his head. Motionless. And it draped him in frozen light, shadowing his eyelids and casting his feet in the tone of midnight.

And all around him, swallowing him completely, locking him in place, stood crystal-clear, flawless ice.

"Loki," Jane whispered. Her breath rasped, and clouded. Her numbed mind fumbled around, trying to understand _what_ was going on…

A thrum.

Far, far down in the tunnel. It rattled the frost by her feet.

No. Not a thrum.

A growl.

And as Jane glanced to her right…

In the distant depths of the tunnel bloomed a light the color of flame.

_To be continued…_

_Review! It certainly encourages me!_

_And Book Three of Bauldr's Tears will be coming out soon on Amazon!_


	4. Chapter 4

_Hope you understand the need for a little delay—Bauldr's Tears Book III is now published on Amazon! _

_Oh, and another treat for you! A lovely friend of mine made a trailer for this story! Go to youtube and type in "Loki/Jane Frozen Heart" and it will lead you right to it! Leave her comments! She did excellent, hard work!_

_For the first two sections, I listened to the TDW soundtrack "A Universe from Nothing."_

_Next section, from the same soundtrack: "Uprisinig," then the Thor 1 soundtrack "Laufey."_

_Then, "The Trial of Loki."_

_Enjoy!_

_VVVVV_

CHAPTER FOUR

_Dissociative Fugue:_

_"__One or more episodes of amnesia_

_in which the inability to recall some_

_or all_

_of one's past _

_and either the loss of one's identity_

_or the formation of a new identity occur with sudden,_

_unexpected,_

_purposeful travel away from home._

_As the person experiencing a Dissociative Fugue_

_may have recently suffered the reappearance of an event_

_or person_

_representing an earlier life trauma,_

_the emergence of an_

_armoring or defensive personality_

_seems to be for some,_

_a logical apprehension of the situation."_

VVVVV

_"__Beautiful! Powerful! Dangerous! Cold!  
Ice has a magic can't be controlled  
Stronger than one, _

_Stronger than ten  
Stronger than a hundred men!"_

_-Frozen _

Loki rested.

His heart had slowed to less than a beat per minute. Ice enclosed him. Ice embraced him. Ice held his whole body fast, like swaddling clothes, numbing the stabbing pain that had needled through every limb, until it eased and vanished. He didn't have to bear any of his own weight—the ice served as his frame. His support. His shield.

His flashing, fluttering thoughts had long ago lost their edges and turned to gray fog that settled down through his bones and disappeared, leaving darkness and silence in his head.

Blessed silence.

Blessed, empty silence.

Nothing could touch him within this frosted iron shell. Nothing could find him. Nothing could hurt him. Not ever again. Desolate and small, for certain—but this was a fortress of his own making, and he would stay inside its walls.

Loki rested.

Darkness sank down through him. True quiet—for the first time in centuries—shrouded his soul. His stabbing memories released, one at a time, rolling away from him like snow in a great wind.

His hands did nothing.

They did not fidget; they did not rub against each other. His fingers didn't snap, didn't rifle through pages of a book, didn't toss a ball, didn't grip a knife or an ice casket or a staff or reins or a helmet; didn't slap, wrench, punch, pry or stab.

They lay motionless upon each shoulder.

His mouth did nothing.

It did not whistle. It did not sing. His tongue did not taste his lips to test for magic in the air. It did not smirk, it did not open to speak—it did not insult, it did not lie, it did not tremble, it did not cry out.

His eyes did nothing.

They hid behind closed lids. They did not glare, they did not wink—neither did their gaze penetrate or cut. No tears fell from their lashes. Darkness veiled them. They could not—would not—see. Anything.

Ever again.

And in that sure knowledge, Loki rested.

Finally, at long last, he felt nothing.

Thought nothing. Remembered nothing.

He slept.

In deep…

Impenetrable…

Frozen…

Solitude.

VVVVV

A…shiver.

A…whisper…of…a shiver…

Like…a feather…against polished…marble…

…soft…

Deep.

Down.

Below.

…heat…

…heat…?

…No.

…deep down. Heat.

Shivering.

Closer…

…warmer…

…something…coming.

Something.

Something…alive.

Something warm.

Something…hot.

Something…

Big.

Danger.

_Wake up._

A voice. A man's voice.

A voice…? From where?

Loki's heart beat once, hard.

It hurt.

His mind frowned. The black shadows within his head writhed. The fog in his soul twisted in discomfort.

It beat again.

His whole chest panged. His ribs riddled with sharp spasms.

_Wake up._

THUD. His heart slammed against his breastbone.

Heat gushed through his veins. His gut clamped down. He moaned. His fingers tingled.

Adrenaline pumped through all his muscles—they clenched.

The ice around his face and throat slowly began melting—sliding in icy streams down his cheeks and into his collar. He commanded his fingers to move. The ice resisted.

_Wake up!_

He clenched his teeth. Closed his hands.

The ice cracked. Snapped away and crumbled. He tightened his hands to fists.

The ice tumbled from his face.

He opened his eyes.

He could see straight through the three-foot wall before him.

He braced his arms.

His heart pounded again.

Summoned all his strength—

Flung his arms out and away from his chest.

The ice exploded.

It burst outward, straight into the rocky corridor, shattering to the floor.

Feeling rushed back into his legs. He lifted his chin. Stepped out into the cave.

Turned his head. And saw it.

VVVV

Jane peered down the tunnel at the strange, swelling light. The floor vibrated—she could feel it through her shoes.

A blast of wind hit her.

_Hot _wind.

"What…?" she whispered.

The light surged toward her. Slithering crackling hissed across the floor. The shadows began solidifying, swimming back and forth along the ground—a deep heaving of air pulsed toward her…

Then—

Flames erupted, flaring in a blinding stream toward her.

She leaped backward—

Their fingers didn't reach her—they died and fell back…

But not before illuminating the towering tunnel—

And the beast that clawed toward her.

A dragon.

Flashing black and scarlet scales, a body fifty-feet long, with a lashing spiked tail—a long, muscular neck, a spiny head with _huge_, round, glowing yellow eyes and thin, needle-like teeth each three feet long; and legs ending in sprawling paws and wicked hooked claws. Its throat glowed like a furnace. It snorted like a steam engine and reared its head, is spines spreading. Its nightmarish reptilian eyes fixed on her.

The ice wall behind her exploded.

She whirled around.

Glowing blue ice smashed all over the stone, spraying and jingling. Huge chunks collapsed, tipped and shattered.

Loki stepped out.

Frost coated his armor—ice slid from his shoulders and down his chest plate. Snow rained from his raven hair. Freezing water trailed down the sapphire skin of his face and hands. The shards of ice cracked and crunched beneath his boots. He lifted his head, turned…

And his blood-red eyes fixed on the dragon.

It saw him, too.

Jane threw herself against the wall and fell to her knees, heart staggering.

Loki set his stance and canted his head at the dragon in a cold, animal-like fashion. The dragon's lips curled back further from its teeth, and its eyes narrowed. It growled deep inside itself, lowered its massive head and took a deep, thunderous breath of Loki's scent. Loki's hair and riding coat rustled.

The dragon suddenly reared.

Opened its mouth and _roared_—

Fire spewed from its maw.

Loki clapped his hands, cupped them at his chin and _blew_.

A hurricane of frozen wind swept through the flames.

Steam burst through the tunnel—fog clouded the air. Jane ducked and covered her head. Sleet splattered across Loki's head and shoulders. He waved his hand and summoned the blue, glowing light from behind him. It buzzed straight at the dragon like a bumble bee. The dragon twitched back. Slapped at it.

Swatted it against the wall.

The tunnel went dark.

Jane gasped.

The dragon howled fire—it tore through the tunnel, scorching her skin. She ducked down as far as she could, covered her head and screamed.

Out of the corner of her left eye…

Loki leaped clear, dancing past the flames. He rolled swiftly, hopped to his feet.

Darkness.

Loki clapped his hands.

_Flash!_

A bolt of glowing blue ice darted through the black.

Struck the dragon in the face.

It howled and reared back.

Darkness.

Fire sprayed against the far wall. Burnt it black. A whirlwind tore at Jane's clothes. For an instant, she saw Loki dart toward the dragon. The dragon's eyes blazed.

Darkness.

_Clap!_

_FLASH_.

Blue light slapped from Loki's hands and cracked right against the left side of the dragon's head. The dragon jerked back, snorting.

Darkness.

Huffing.

Snorting.

Snarling.

Claws raking stone.

A wild, blinding stream of fire.

The dragon lunged.

Loki leaped up and over its arching neck.

Darkness.

_FLASH. _

A lightning bolt of ice careened across the ceiling—illuminating the whole dragon. The dragon writhed and lashed its tail. Loki threw himself back.

Darkness.

Jane covered her face, staring through her fingers, straining to see even a shadow—

The dragon screeched.

Fire burst out from open mouth, rolling across the floor—

Loki, caught in an explosion of hellish orange light, loomed over the dragon's neck. With his foot, he pinned the dragon's head to the stone, and with both hands he rammed a long shaft of ice through its throat.

Bones snapped.

The dragon choked.

The fire sputtered and went out.

Darkness.

Silence.

Jane gasped, then covered her mouth with both hands. Her heart beat as fast as a rabbit's—she battled to stifle her panting.

Soft footsteps. Like those of a cat. Slow and even. Coming closer.

She squeezed her eyes shut, halfway praying for there to be truth to that old childhood belief: if you can't see _him_, he can't see _you…_

"I hear your breathing."

The voice purred and thrummed with three undertones—deep as the blackness around it. The words were careful, and delicately formed.

Jane blinked her eyes open…

And gasped horribly.

A pair of glowing red eyes pierced the dark and fixed on her.

"What are you?" the low voice asked.

"I'm…" Jane tried, frantically pushing herself back against the wall. "I'm…Jane."

"Jane," it repeated, as if trying an unfamiliar word.

"Jane Foster. I'm from Earth. _Midgard_," she corrected quickly. The red eyes blinked.

"You are human," the voice said. Jane swallowed and nodded—finally realizing that he could probably see her perfectly.

"Jane…" it said again, more quietly. Thoughtfully. The eyes turned away, and slowly glanced through the tunnel. "What are you doing on Jotunheim?"

"No, we're…We're not…" Jane began, frowning. "We're on Svartalfheim."

"Svartalfheim," he repeated. Considered a moment. "That would explain the dragon."

"It…would?"

The eyes blinked again, and returned their gaze to her. Narrowed.

"Why are you on Svartalfheim, human?"

"I…" Jane stopped herself, staring up at those eyes. This…This _was _Loki, wasn't it…? Couldn't he remember?

"To find Malekith," she finally answered.

"Malekith," he breathed, as if recalling. "The elven king. I…have only had dealings with him once, long ago…A prisoner exchange in treaty, for the safety of my kingdom..."

Jane stared up at him.

"Wh…Your kingdom?"

"Jotunheim," he answered, looking down at her. "I am Laufey, the king."

Jane mentally stumbled.

"Did you find Malekith?" his voice cut into her thoughts.

"I…Yes."

"What did you require of him?"

"I was trying to…" Jane stopped, frowning hard up at the blackness and the gleaming eyes. "You…don't remember?"

"You have told me nothing, yet," he snapped. "Answer my question."

"You don't…" Jane breathed. "You…you _don't_ remember…!"

"What did you require of him?" he pressed.

"I…" Jane began, treading carefully. "Was trying to stop him from…using the Aether to…He wants to turn the universe back to the way it was in the beginning. Dark…like it used to be." She halted again, biting back the temptation to ask him _again_ why he didn't remember that…

"Hm," he said, low and pensive. "Malekith striving with the Aether—and my suddenly walking from Jotunheim straight into Svartalfheim…I imagine it's time for the Convergence, then?"

"Um…yes…" Jane answered, baffled. He sighed and clicked his tongue.

"The same old story with Malekith. Never any new tricks…"

Jane bit down, theories wrestling through her head. He sucked in a breath and turned back to her.

"Did you succeed?"

Jane straightened.

"What?"

"Did you succeed in stopping Malekith?"

"I…No," Jane confessed, feverishly debating with herself. "He got away."

"Hm," he said again, lower. He fell silent, glancing off.

Then, he returned his attention to her—and Jane sensed him tilt his head.

"Why are you alone?"

Jane said nothing. Her throat closed.

He didn't remember. He didn't even know who he was.

Out there, when they'd gotten off the boat, everything Jane heard and saw had been muddied by a panicked fog. She'd seen Loki turn another color, and fight with Thor—she'd been afraid, confused, and half certain she was imagining the whole thing…

…and then she'd had that vision of Earth, being swallowed by black, crawling tendrils…

She _did _remember that, in front of Malekith, he'd said he was Loki, son of Laufey. Which Jane knew wasn't true, since he was Thor's brother.

But now…

She'd seen his skin in those flashes from the dragon fire. It was _still_ dark blue, like a frozen ocean. And his eyes…

What had happened?

Something with the Aether? An elf spell?

_Why _couldn't he remember who he was?

She swallowed again. Well, whatever was wrong, whatever spell he was under, she had to be _very _careful. He thought he was a king—and not _just_ a king. A _Frost Giant _king.

"I…came alone," Jane finally decided to lie. "I thought I knew how to stop him."

Loki snorted.

"A little Midgardian witch, hm?"

His feet shuffled. Walked away.

Jane sat up straight.

"Wait—where are you going?"

"Home," he replied—from several paces away. "You should do the same, witch."

"I'm…I'm not a witch, I'm a scientist," Jane protested, using the wall for support and standing up. She couldn't see _anything _now. Her heartbeat picked back up. "You can't leave me here!"

He didn't answer.

"I _do_ know how to stop him!" she cried, suddenly not caring if he called her bluff. "I can't just go home—he's going to _destroy_ my home unless I do something, but I can't! I can't see in here, I don't know where I am!"

"And why should I care about your home?" came the casual, hissed reply from out of the blackness. "I'm bound to nothing but my duty to my kingdom and my people."

"Your people aren't safe," Jane shot back. "Nobody is. He's planning on taking over _everything_, not just Earth."

A whisper of movement.

The scarlet eyes blinked open right above her. She jerked back against the wall.

"How?"

"How what?" she rasped.

"How can he be stopped?"

"He can't be stopped from here," she answered, trembling. "But…But I have the equipment to…to disrupt the Convergence, to…control it so it won't do what he wants."

"Where?"

"It's on Earth."

He paused.

"How did _you_ get here?"

"Through a…I walked through. Because of the Convergence," Jane lied again. "Just like you did."

"Where?"

"It's…" Jane struggled to peer down the tunnel. "It's that way." She pointed. "It's outside the cave, across a valley and up a hill. W…I came in a hoverboat. It's still out there."

Her stomach tied itself in knots. She was actually pointing the way back to Asgard. But if she could get Loki to lead her out of this pitch-black cave, then maybe she could lose him out there in the rocks, get back to Asgard herself and convince Odin to finally help _Thor_…

Loki remained motionless for a long time, studying her. She started to sweat.

He straightened up.

"Very well," he growled. "Come."

"I can't see," she reminded him.

"Take the tail of my coat," he instructed.

A rough edge of leather brushed against her hands. She jerked, then reflexively reached out to grab it—

Touched something soft.

Yanked her hand back.

A sensation so cold it _burned _her fingers.

_"__Ow!"_ she cried, gripping her left hand tightly in her right. "What was _that?"_

"My coat, witch, not my hand," he muttered impatiently.

"That was your _hand?"_ she cried.

"One of the superior aspects of the Jotun breed," he replied—and she could hear his sneer.

The fabric flapped against the back of her hand again.

Carefully, wincing, she gripped the edge of it.

"Come," he said again—and the fabric tugged on her. She stumbled forward, seeing nothing, hearing nothing but their footsteps on stone, knowing nothing but the icy leather gripped between her fingers.

VVVVV

"You told me it was this way."

"It _is_ this way," Jane insisted, straining her eyes but still seeing nothing. His footsteps stopped. The coat slackened. Jane quickly halted to keep from running into his back.

"We've already gone further than we should have," Loki murmured. "Yet there's been no opening. Nothing."

"We weren't very far from the cave entrance to begin with," Jane replied. "I _just _came in, to get out of the snow—"

"What snow?"

"Snow, outside," Jane said.

"How could it be snowing on Svartalfheim?"

"I don't know," Jane shook her head. "I just woke up in the middle of a blizzard."

"Woke up?"

"Yeah, Malekith threw me down and I think…I must have hit my head."

"Convenient," Loki muttered. "You were lying, weren't you? You don't know which way it is at all."

"Yes, I do," Jane answered, trying to keep herself from shaking. "It's this way. There's only one possible way—"

"Do _not _answer back to me," he snapped, leaning dangerously close to her—frost stung the end of her nose. "You will reply to my questions as I ask them, and if you feel the need to address me when you do, you shall call me Your Majesty or Sire. Say _nothing _more. Is that understood?"

Jane clamped her jaw shut and squeezed her eyes closed. He backed up. The air in front of her face warmed a fraction.

"Now," he breathed, and she felt him turn back around. "If it isn't this direction, then what—"

He fell silent. Jane didn't dare ask.

Then—

She felt it.

A whisper of air. To her right.

She turned toward it.

Unmistakable. A low, gentle draft.

The coat tugged. Loki followed the draft. Jane, biting the inside of her cheek, was forced to follow.

VVVV

Jane squinted up ahead. Frowned so hard she gave herself a headache.

But finally—finally, she knew it.

Light.

Some kind of light.

Ahead.

First, she glimpsed the outline of Loki's shoulders, right in front of her. They swayed just slightly as he strode. Then, the edges of his tattered hair.

Their footsteps still echoed against stone, and she couldn't hear anything like wind. But at long last, she could _see_.

A disembodied blue light faded into existence and soon surrounded them. She blinked several times, adjusting her vision. Loki's coat, still grasped in both her hands, sparkled with a sheen of Jack Frost. He glanced to either side, assessing—and his skin seemed luminescent blue, all lined with patterns, his red eyes glinting.

Then, she realized that the walls were shimmering.

She turned to the right, disconcerted—

And stared right back into the face of her own reflection.

"What—!" she yelped, letting go of Loki's coat. She stopped. So did Loki.

And all at once, the two of them were surrounded by duplicates of themselves.

Loki took a measured breath.

A million Lokis of all sizes and angles all around them did the exact same thing. He glanced up.

"Mirrors."

Jane, wrapping her arms around herself, slowly turned her head to stare.

Mirrors surrounded them. Covered the walls and the ceiling. Disjointed, like a stained-glass-window, some pieces tilted at strange angles. Only the floor remained the same, as far as she could tell, interrupted by occasional narrow boulders. But the floor _seemed _to march on in a broad field off to either side of them, populated by giant, shattered, miniature or halved versions of herself and the icy, forbidding Loki.

It made her sick to her stomach. She put a hand to her head, trying not to get dizzy.

"Elves," Loki muttered, his lip curling in distaste. "Always trying to be so clever."

He started forward again, which caused all the reflections to jolt and swim. Jane stumbled after him.

"What do you mean, clever? Your…Majesty," she remembered to add, trying hard to just focus on his _real_ back.

He glanced halfway over his shoulder at her.

"The dragon was the first gate. This is the second," he said. "This is an elvish fortress, and it—"

The floor swallowed him.

He plunged down through it and disappeared.

His reflections vanished from all the mirrors.

Jane gasped. It tore her throat.

She stared.

Straight in front of her on the floor, where there should have been stone…

Was another mirror.

But this one's edges rippled.

_To be continued…_

_Review! Oh, and check out "Bauldr's Tears"! Book III is out!_

_And go find the trailer for this fic! It's a pretty one!_


	5. Chapter 5

_Thank you so much, everyone! I hope you continue to enjoy!_

_VVVVV_

CHAPTER FIVE

_"__No one ever told me that grief felt so much like fear." –CS Lewis_

_"__If you have ever lost someone very important to you,_

_Then you already know how it feels,_

_And if you haven't,_

_You cannot possibly imagine it."_

_-Lemony Snicket_

_"__But grief makes a monster out of us sometimes." _

_–__Melina Marchetta_

_"__Grief is a most peculiar thing; _

_We're so helpless in the face of it. _

_It's like a window that will simply open of its own accord. _

_The room grows cold, _

_and we can do nothing but shiver." _

_–__Arthur Golden_

VVVV

He threw out his arms as he landed—hit the ground on his hands and knees, his fingers spread wide.

The low _thud_ of his landing echoed down a long space.

He went still, listening.

Silence answered.

The surface beneath his hands felt smooth. Cold. He glanced down. Frost reflexively spread out from his fingertips, across the face of another mirror. He lifted his head and considered the ceiling.

It appeared to be solid rock.

That same ethereal, sourceless blue light lived down here, too—but at half strength.

Slowly, he drew himself up and stood, pulling in deep breaths. He smelled dust, but nothing else. Every tiny movement he made reflected and refracted back at him from the thousands of mirrored surfaces all over the walls and floor.

He narrowed his eyes at his own tall, dark reflection to his right. He must have come through a portal in the floor of the corridor above. The fact that the human female hadn't fallen down on top of him was interesting. She must have run away. Either that, or she had been eaten by another beast. Neither mattered, now. He was alone again, and so the task of finding his way out fell solely to him.

And it would be helpful if these mirrors didn't bungle up his senses.

He reached out to his right and pressed his hand to the nearest mirror. Took a deep breath, then let it out.

Jack Frost flowed out from his touch and swept across the entire right-hand wall, obscuring the reflective surfaces in fog. He stepped to the left and laid his hand against that wall, too—and frost flooded those mirrors as well. Within seconds, a clearly-outlined, long, narrow corridor stretched out before him. Darkness waited at the far end. He started forward.

He strode swiftly, keeping his steps quiet, his gaze darting back and forth as the cold air whispered through his hair and clothes.

The corridor bent to the left, then to the right, then gradually declined. The blue light swelled around him, brightening. Whenever he reached the end of the frost mask on the mirrors, he would reach out and trail his fingers along the walls, shooting fog forward across the smooth surfaces, blocking his reflections and making his way straight.

The corridor declined further. He frowned. This was not favorable. If this path continued downhill for forty more paces, he would stop, turn around, and try the other direction. The least helpful thing at the moment would be heading down into the bowels of this fortress, especially when—

Something small and cold slid down underneath his breastplate.

His steps faltered—he strode past his ice mask into the glittering mirrors, pulling his hands away from the walls…

He stopped.

The small, metal thing inside stopped at the middle of his belly.

He hesitated. Lightly slapped his armor.

The little metal loosened.

Fell out, tumbled through his coat and hit the floor.

CLINK.

He backed up, startled. Stared suspiciously down at the little, glimmering bit of silver lying on the mirrored floor.

Cautiously, he got down on one knee, canting his head, peering at it.

A silver pendant.

A pendant of Mjollnir, the thunder-hammer, carrying a broken chain. It winked in the eerie light.

His vision blacked out.

VVVVV

Jane stared at the mirror floor, gripping the collar of her dress.

What _was _this? Was it something like the anomaly she and Darcy had run into back home—the portal she'd dropped the bottles and things down into, only to see them fall down from the ceiling? But if that were the case, why hadn't _Loki _done the same?

She minutely shook her head, edging closer. No. This was something else. Probably built into the fortress—a trap door of some kind. But she couldn't hear any noises from underneath it—nothing at all. That didn't mean anything.

What was down there?

An endless abyss, plunging to the center of the planet?

Something like the Phantom Zone in Superman, where she'd be stuck in a little box for the rest of time?

Or—like a trap door…

A way out?

…one that Loki had already found?

"Oh…no, no, no…" she winced, her heart pounding as she leaned forward, staring down at her own worried expression. "That would be a bad…a bad, _bad _idea."

_Jane_.

She jerked up straight. Her eyes went wide.

She spun around, searching.

Nobody.

"What?" she gasped.

_Jane_.

Deep.

Down.

Beneath.

_Jane_.

"Oh, not this again…" she murmured, her brow knitting so hard it hurt as she peered at the reflective floor. She swallowed, wrapping her arms around herself and clenching her fists.

_Jane…?_

The voice—coming from somewhere far down there—took on a strange, plaintive tone.

"What?" she said again, tilting forward. "Who…Is someone there?"

_Jane…?_

And now it sounded…lost.

Confused.

Familiar.

_Jane?_

"Who is there?" she demanded, in her full voice.

No answer.

"Hello? Can you hear me?" she tried.

Nothing.

She bit her lip. And hovered on the edge.

VVVVV

_Early._

_Earliest._

_The earliest memory Loki possessed._

_Lying in a cradle, wrapped in a blanket._

_Lying across from another very, very tiny little boy._

_Thor._

_Thor, and his big, teary blue eyes._

_Thor was staring straight at Loki. And Loki was looking back. Thor's pout had transformed into a look of deepest concentration, his tears glistening on his cheeks, but forgotten. His brilliant blue eyes fixed on Loki's, his mouth was closed, and he was breathing so carefully it was almost like he was holding his breath. Then, he swallowed, and squirmed slightly._

_Loki's lips tightened, his eyes wandering, fascinated, over Thor's face. He wiggled, and his right arm flailed out and his little fingers hit Thor's nose. _

_Instantly, the two went still. Their eyes locked again. This time, it was Loki's gaze that intensified—though both of their delicate brows had formed focused frowns._

_Slowly, Loki's unpracticed fingers spread out, and rested on Thor's face, right on his forehead and bridge of his tiny nose. _

_ "__Da," he said gravely._

_And Thor laughed._

_A beam of pure delight shot through Loki's soul. It rang through the room, sending thrills all through Loki's veins—fresh as a morning after rain, and brilliant as the sun that cuts through as storm cloud..._

_A corridor. He was small. His little feet pattered on stone._

_The torches had dimmed, but Loki's vision instantly sharpened so he could see everything clearly. He hurried across the floor, the light bobbing after, until he came to Thor's room. He paused, then pushed on the door._

_It eased open. Loki slid inside. Stopped._

_Thor thrashed in his bed. Let out three more urgent grunts, his hands balling into fists. Loki took a brief breath, brow furrowing, and picked his way through the maze of toys toward him. _

_He halted at the foot of Thor's bed, watching him in the light of the green glow._

_Thor's face twisted—tears ran down his cheeks. His eyes stayed closed._

_Loki's mouth tightened. Then, he came around on the other side of Thor's bed and climbed onto it. _

_Thor twitched. _

_Loki stopped. _

_Thor swallowed hard. Shivered._

_Loki eased down next to him, onto his side, and faced Thor. The green light hovered over their heads. Thor violently threw himself to one side—and suddenly he was facing Loki. Choking on sobs. _

_Loki held out one hand, and touched Thor on the bridge of his nose._

_Thor's eyes flew open. _

_Loki stared straight into his brother's vivid gaze._

_Then, Thor caught sight of the friendly, bobbing green light. Startled, his tear-filled eyes flicked to it for a moment, then back to Loki._

_And Thor let out a long, deep sigh. His frame relaxed. He blinked slowly, and swallowed again. He brought his right hand up, and patted Loki on the head. Then he let his hand fall down onto Loki's forearm, and his eyelashes fluttered shut. The little light hummed. Warmth seeped back into Loki's muscles, and he sank into the soft mattress…_

_Slamming. Crashing. Pain. _

_A wreck—wooden horse bits lying everywhere…_

_"__Loki?" the voice sharpened—enough so Loki could understand his name. "Loki? Loki?"_

_Loki blinked hard—_

_And finally could see Thor bending over him, felt him grabbing his shoulders, his bright blue eyes wide, his freckled face pale, his hair hanging wild. Thor blinked._

_ "__Are you all right?" he demanded._

_Loki dragged himself into a sitting position—but everything throbbed and hurt. His back, his head, his arms, his chest, his legs._

_And then he saw his new horse, broken in several pieces beside him, splinters and flinderes lying everywhere. _

_He choked in his throat, and tears welled up in his eyes and spilled. He shakily scrabbled for Thor, grabbed him and pressed his face into his brother's scarlet-clad chest and let out a wail. Thor clumsily wrapped him up in his arms and patted him on the head._

_ "__It's all right," Thor said, pulling him tighter. "It's all right. You're all right…"_

_A crackling fire in a pit, surrounded by couches. _

_Sitting there, relaxed, next to Thor…_

_Thor slapped Loki's back, winked, then folded his arms across his own broad chest and sat back into the cushions, sighing. Loki leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees._

_ "__You're keeping the beard, then?" he remarked. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Thor rub his chin. _

_ "__I like it," Thor declared. "You ought to grow one."_

_ "__Pssht," Loki waved it off. "Why would I do that? It would be like walking around with a sheep on my face."_

_Thor chuckled. _

_ "__You are simply jealous that you cannot grow one yet."_

_ "__I doubt I should ever want to," Loki answered. "It would ruin my profile."_

_Thor laughed out loud now. Loki could not hide his smirk—but he managed to keep from looking at Thor. _

_ "__How vain you are," Thor realized. "Your new cow-head helmet must really trouble you, then."_

_ "__I don't know what you mean," Loki said lightly. "I was too distracted by the large chicken you now have to wear on your head."_

_ "__It is not a chicken!" Thor shouted._

_ "__It's not a cow," Loki warned. They stared at each other—_

_Then suddenly lunged. Thor grabbed Loki's unhurt arm and clamped down on it—Loki took a fistful of Thor's hair—they flailed a moment, fell back against the couch and burst out laughing. Then, suddenly struggling, they gritted through their teeth and fought to overpower each other, wrestling and kicking. They fought for several minutes, baring their teeth, tugging at hair and tunics and knocking elbows into heads…_

_Swimming gold. A hall filled with people. Panging in Loki's shoulder. He felt tall, now. _

_Quite a man. _

_But…_

_"__Come on!" Thor ordered—grand, lionesque and beaming, motioning Loki forward. Loki cleared his throat, wiped his mouth on a napkin, then stood up from the table and stepped over the bench, and up to his brother's side. Thor slung a heavy arm around his shoulders and led him up the few steps to the dais. _

_"__What are you planning?" Loki said under his breath. Thor just chuckled, which made Loki uneasy, but before he could say anything, Thor had turned him around to face the assembly, holding him there with a broad hand on his shoulder. _

_"__My friends," Thor announced. "Today, I set out on a quest—one that was fraught with adventure—and more peril than I had expected."_

_The people laughed. Loki swallowed._

_"__I was plunged in glorious battle, and Mjollnir's thirst for blood was quenched!" Thor went on. "But then, for the first time in my long life, I was caught unawares. The numbers of the enemy proved too great, even for my fists, and the might of Mjollnir. And even as the floor of the cavern tumbled away beneath my feet, Mjollnir was twisted from my grasp." Thor's grip on Loki's shoulder tightened, and he turned his burning blue eyes from the feasting hall to those of his brother, a half smile on his face. "But call it wisdom or luck—or perhaps some of both—I had not come alone."_

_The hall fell quiet, sensing a solemnity come over Thor. Loki did not look away from his brother's eyes._

_"__Loki, my younger brother, had walked and fought beside me in those caves, closer than my shadow," Thor continued. "And it was in that moment, when I had lost all hope, that he snatched me from the icy teeth of death." Thor gave him a warmer smile. "I fear his arm will never recover."_

_Loki could not help but smile that time, and duck his head, as their friends and family chuckled._

_"__So," Thor slapped his back, then released him. "I will endeavor to make amends by this." He reached into a leather pouch that hung at his belt, and pulled out a shimmering silver chain, by which hung a pendant of Mjollnir. Loki blinked as he reached out a hand and fingered the pendant._

_"__The workmanship is ingenious," he remarked quietly. "Who made it?"_

_"__I did."_

_Loki, shocked, lifted his head to search Thor's face. _

_"__Remember what Father always says," Thor said, glancing down at the bearded king for a moment. "There are two sides to Mjollnir. If I ask it to split mountains or crush bone, it will. But if I ask it to build or forge, it will do that as well." He paused, and gave Loki a serious look. "And I know where my true strength lies."_

_Loki was too stunned to say anything. And before he could try, Thor had stepped up to him, hung the chain around his neck and clasped it. _

_A jolt of power ran from the top of Loki's spine to his heels the instant the clasp clicked. Then, Thor wrapped his arms around him tight, taking a fistful of his dark hair. _

_"__For as long as the east stands across from the west," Thor said, so only Loki could hear. "I will be your brother."_

Loki's eyes snapped open.

He stared down at his blue palm.

A pendant and chain lay there, cold and gleaming.

Mjollnir.

He shot to his feet and stumbled backward, his breaths ripping through his chest. He whirled, suddenly assaulted by thousands of disorienting reflections of himself—but _not _himself.

Himself with blue skin—and _red eyes_.

His stomach flipped over, then flipped again.

"What…" he strangled. "What—"

As he stared at his reflections, his legs turning to water, the blue color drained out of his face—replaced by snow white. His lips, and the skin around his eyes, stayed gray. His eyes faded, and returned to listless green—stark and wide in this eerie light.

His breathing became a hurricane in his ears, his heart slamming against his ribcage. He spun around again—his reflections flashed. He closed his fingers around the pendant so hard that it sliced into his palm.

His vision flickered. His gut churned.

And horrid, dreadful certainty swept through him that he was about to be sick, lose consciousness—or die.

VVVVV

Jane stayed on her hands and knees for what felt like several minutes. She couldn't tell. She shook all over, still mentally cursing herself for taking that half a step forward and being stupid enough to let herself fall through the floor after all.

Finally, though, she gritted her teeth and made herself climb to her feet, wincing at her bruised knees and taking a look around.

The mirror walls down here were covered in condensation. But the floor wasn't wet at all. She frowned. That was weird. That shouldn't happen unless…

Unless.

She drew in a slow breath.

Unless something—or some_one—_very cold had just passed through.

_Jane…_

She jumped.

"There it is again," she whispered. She wrapped her arms around herself and stepped forward.

"Hello?" she called. She started down the corridor, being careful. She didn't want to suddenly slam into a wall. Which could easily happen. "Hello? Is somebody there?"

…_Jane_…

She picked up her speed, just a little. The voice—it sounded more and more familiar all the time. And closer, too. Why? What was it? _Who _was it?

The hallway curved to the left, then the right, and started slightly downward. It lightened. The blue light got brighter. Which made it harder and harder to see which was the right way and which was the wall. A thousand versions of herself, big and small, danced along beside her and above her. The condensation cleared, and all the reflections sharpened. She slowed down, her muscles tensing.

"Hello?" she called.

And then…

A blip.

She stopped.

Some other reflection. It flickered into the corner of one of the mirrors up ahead, then disappeared.

"Hello?" she started forward again. "Is someone..?"

Suddenly—a figure.

A thousand times.

Tall, lean, wearing black with edges of emerald. He turned half to the side, his wide eyes searching, searching, his mouth open as he panted.

His skin—his skin looked normal.

Or—very pale. Ashen. But not blue. And his eyes were _not _red.

He held something in his right fist. He stumbled.

"Loki?"

Jane said before she thought about it.

He twitched around, blinking hard.

She slapped a hand over her mouth.

His eyebrows drew together, and bewilderment flooded his gaze. The reflections wavered and swayed. Jane had no idea which one was the real thing.

His mouth moved. No sound came out. He kept searching, the knuckles of his fist white.

His mouth moved again.

"Jane?" he rasped.

Jane's lips parted. He stopped swaying, swallowed, and waited.

Then, as silence lengthened, slow, wide-eyed terror filled his expression.

Her heart wrenched.

"I'm over here," Jane broke in.

He sucked in his breath, catching himself. The terror faded back.

"Where are you?" Jane called. "I can see your reflections, but I don't know which one is you."

"I'm…I'm…" he stammered.

Jane paused for a moment. Closed her eyes.

"I'm…I don't…" he said.

She turned, and followed his voice.

Took four steps. Turned to the right.

Opened her eyes.

He stood in front of her.

His brilliant, shining eyes locked on hers.

Jane held her breath.

For a very long time, neither of them moved—though she could hear Loki's labored breathing, and see his shoulders trembling.

Finally, Loki took a deeper breath. It shook. He swallowed hard—and a plaintive look drew his eyebrows together.

"Where am I?"

Jane hesitated, then squeezed her hands together.

"Svartalfheim."

His expression flickered with discomfort, confusion. He glanced around, then found her again. He raised his eyebrows.

"Where is Thor?" he asked. "Where's…I need…" He cleared his throat, and took one step toward her. He halfway lifted his hand, opening it—a silver chain dangled between his fingers. His features opened earnestly. "Something's broken. It broke, so…" He swallowed, lowered his head and gave her a stark, steady look—as if he were requesting something simple but important. She could see him quivering.

"Where is Thor?"

"He's not here," Jane whispered. "Malekith took him."

He stared at her. His lips parted.

His eyelids fluttered, and he backed up an inch, as if absorbing an injected poison.

"Malekith," he breathed. His eyes darted back and forth, as if he were watching images flash rapidly in front of him.

Then, they unfocused. He blinked. Two crystal tears rolled down his face. "Oh."

His fingers closed around the pendant again, and his arm slackened. He stared at the wall next to him, but Jane knew he wasn't seeing anything.

Her brow knitted, and she silently watched him. His trembling slowed and ceased. His expression smoothed—and turned blank. The tears dripped off his chin.

Jane, still and quiet, released a slow, steady sigh. Everything calmed and stilled, and all the pieces finally clicked into place.

She had to admit that she didn't know Loki. Didn't know the first thing about his past, his problems or his history with his family. But…

Though his symptoms manifested in extreme, spectacular and terrifying ways—as per everything in Asgard…

She recognized every one.

And they rang sadly, softly, inside her heart.

She stepped forward. Her shoes tapped the mirror. She stood in front of him—but he didn't see her. She gazed up into his tear-streaked face, and smiled weakly.

"I told you I knew what it was like," she murmured. "I just…didn't have a convenient block of ice to climb into." She thought a moment, and shrugged one shoulder. "I wish I had."

He didn't respond. She didn't expect him to. She'd figured it out.

He'd panicked out there, with Malekith. Gone into complete fight-or-flight mode—that's what the blue skin and eyes had been. Now, he'd just come out of some sort of repressive amnesia—hiding behind another persona—and that's what the ice block, and Laufey thing had been. But something had just shaken him out. And he'd gone into shock.

Jane glanced him up and down, sighing again and considering. But she knew there was only one thing she could do, at this point.

She reached up, very slowly, slipped her fingers around his hand and squeezed. His felt like ice—but soft. And his skin didn't threaten frostbite. He didn't do anything.

"Come on," she said, taking a step back. "We should keep moving. That dragon probably wasn't alone."

He didn't act as if he registered anything. His hand stayed limp in hers. She knew it would.

She backed up a little further, and tugged gently.

He shuffled half a step forward.

She tugged again.

He shuffled again.

Very slowly, Jane began to walk, pulling him along by the hand. He blinked slowly, showing nothing…

But he came with her. And together, the two of them made their way further down the corridor of endless mirrors.

_To be continued…_

_Review!_

_And if you haven't already, go watch the trailer for this on youtube! "Loki/Jane Frozen Heart."_

_And look up "Bauldr's Tears" on Amazon! Don't miss it!_


	6. Chapter 6

_Hold onto your hats._

_Oh, and…I shall nod, now, to Tolkien, the master of magic._

_And in that vein, for the latter part of the chapter, I listened to a personal favorite of mine, "Gandalf Falls Extended."_

_VVVVV_

CHAPTER SIX

_"__Ice contains no future,_

_Just the past, sealed away. _

_As if they're alive, everything in the world is sealed up inside, _

_Clear and distinct. _

_Ice can preserve all kinds of things that way- cleanly, clearly. _

_That's the essence of ice, the role it plays."_

_–__Haruki Murakami_

_VVV_

Jane led him further down the hallway, holding his left hand with her right. She ran her own left hand along the cold wall. Having her feet on one of the four main surfaces and her hand on another helped to cut through her disorientation. A little.

Loki said nothing.

She could hear him breathing, shallowly. Occasionally, she'd glance up and back at his face, but it remained blank and colorless. No more tears fell, but his eyes weren't tracking. His hand stayed limp. Their shoes on the slick surface made a chorus of quiet tapping.

Jane didn't know how long they trailed through these mirrors. She didn't want to think about it. She didn't want to think about time, or amounts of air…or food…or water…

The mirror hall turned to the left.

She stopped.

Stairs.

A short, dim staircase—five steps.

And a door.

She hesitated, holding her breath so she could listen.

Nothing.

"Okay…" she sighed tightly, looking to Loki again. "There's a door here, so we're going to see what's on the other side. You have to be careful, though. There's stairs."

She stepped down the first one, and tugged him along. His foot slid forward, then slipped off the edge and hit the step. He jolted. Jane caught him by the forearm—though she knew that if he really decided to fall, he'd crush her.

"Easy, easy," she warned. "Okay, four more. Careful. We'll go slow."

She held onto him tightly, coaxing him down to the next step. He followed, a little steadier this time. The next step was better, and the next.

Finally, they reached the bottom. Jane let go of him for a moment, and turned to face the towering door.

It was made of stone. Smooth and silvery—some sort of gray marble. It had been carved beautifully by a patient and painstaking hand with all kinds of curling writing and swirling patterns. She folded her arms, frowning at it.

"There's no handle," she mused. "Must be a…a secret button, or a code…" She glanced up, and tilted her head, squinting. "There's…words up there. I see them. There's carved words up next to the top." She sighed, studying. "I can't read them. They don't look like old Norse, so they're probably Elvish, which I've never seen…"

"_Pedo Mellon a Minno."_

Jane spun around.

Loki was gazing up at the words. And he'd spoken.

"What…What did you say?" she asked.

"_Pedo Mellon a Minno_," he repeated—and looked down, frowning, at her. "High ancient Dark-Elvish. Hardly common knowledge in Asgard, but…After all, nothing's common about me."

Jane watched him. Heaviness settled around his shoulders, and his attention drifted.

"What does it say?" she wondered. He frowned again, with effort, and considered the words.

"Speak Friend and Enter."

She stared at him.

A long pause stretched.

"Really?"

"Yes," he said flatly.

She stared at him some more. Then, she turned around, faced the door, took a deep breath, and said…

"_Mellon."_

_CRACK._

She jumped back.

A puff of dust issued from the edges. And the door, groaning in its depths, eased back and away…

Pitch darkness waited beyond. Jane shivered, for about forty reasons.

"Well," she breathed to herself. "I'm sure never going to read Lord of the Rings the same way again…"

She ventured forward, trying to see something…

Nothing. Totally dark.

She turned back to Loki.

"Are you…coming?" she asked.

He blinked, found her. Didn't respond.

Finally nodded.

He stepped forward, head down. Wincing, Jane set her hand against the door and put her foot across the threshold…

FLASH.

She gasped.

That same blue light—only facets and tinges deeper and brighter in both directions—shot up through the room. The _looming _room.

Rectangular shaped, and only perhaps forty feet by sixty feet at the floor, its walls leaped up and away from them into the shadowy heights and disappeared before revealing the ceiling. And these walls were _packed _with _books_.

Skinny ladders with wheels latched to railings so a person could climb one and kick off, and go skimming down the wall. Catwalks clung to the higher shelves, creating a spider web of walkways and balconies, each one leading to another, and spiraling up into the dark.

Straight ahead stood a broad, white-marble fireplace—and just as they came in, a golden fire blazed to life and danced inside it, as if in warm, motherly greeting. Armchairs and cushions huddled around it. And the rest of the floor was crowded with little tables, desks, jars, bulbs, towers of more books, globes, glass cases of butterflies, vials of sparkling liquids, flattened black flowers and thousands of other oddities that Jane couldn't calculate at the moment.

"What…" Jane murmured, filling with awe as she trailed inside. "Is _this?"_

"A _tid-hvelv,_" Loki answered quietly. "That's what we call it, anyway."

Jane turned to him. He stood just inside the door, glancing around with just his eyes.

"What's that?"

"A time-vault," he said. "To preserve ancient documents and artifacts, keep them from decaying." He wandered forward, slowly picking his way between the desks and other oddments, toward the fireplace.

"What do you mean, 'time-vault'?" Jane questioned, following him. "What has time got to do with anything?"

Loki sank down into one of the chairs with a heavy sigh.

"_This thing all things devours_," he muttered.  
_ Birds, beasts, trees, flowers;  
Gnaws iron, bites steel;  
Grinds hard stones to meal;  
Slays king, ruins town  
And beats high mountain down_."

"What—really?" Jane cried. "You…You mean it? That riddle?"

He didn't answer. She came up and stared at his solemn, stony profile.

"It's Time," she said. "That's the answer."

"Brilliant, little girl," he murmured, gazing into the flames. "And if Time does _that_, but you wish to defy it…" He lifted his chin. "You stop it."

_BANG_.

Jane leaped to the side and whirled—

Just as the great door slammed shut.

"Oh—no—"

She threw herself at it, dodging around three desks, noisily knocking over a pile of books. She slapped her hands against the marble. She clawed the edges, panting. She shoved, pulled, kicked…

Nothing.

It didn't move.

Steady as a mountainside.

Jane turned back around, panic clenching her throat.

"We…We have to get out," she panted, stumbling back toward him. "You…We can't stay in here! Loki, we _can't _stay in here!" she gestured wildly toward the door. "There's no food, no water, no _air _in here! We'll die!"

"No, we won't," he replied, draping his fingers over his chin. "I told you, it's a time-vault. One second becomes a hundred years. So, effectively, you could remain in here for what feels like, to you, a millennia…" he glanced sideways at her. "And out _there_, only a few minutes have passed. Tactile magic will not work, and brute force would just be stupid." He considered the fireplace again, and his expression darkened. "So settle in, if you like libraries so much. I'm not in the mood for any more sight-seeing."

VVVVV

Jane glanced over her shoulder at him. He had moved his chair several hours ago, turning it so it faced the fireplace and the rest of the room equally. Mostly, he stared blankly into the fire. But occasionally, she could feel his attention drift across her.

For the first hour, she'd fiddled with the door, ignoring what Loki said. She'd found bits of metal to try and ram into the creases. She'd pried and kicked and pushed and prodded and rubbed and knocked…

But nothing worked. It didn't budge so much as a centimeter.

_Brute force would just be stupid…_he'd said. And _Tactile magic will not work…_

Well. Whatever "tactile magic" was, she was fairly certain she didn't know anything about it. She assumed it was something more like the magic Loki used, to make flashes of light with his hands, or frost, or whatever. And she'd obviously had no training in _that _area, thank you very much.

So, she turned to the books.

She thumbed through hundreds of them, trying to make out something, _anything, _having to do with opening sealed doors. The books were heavy—leather or wood bound, with thick animal-hide pages. All of the volumes were written in bold, curly Elvish script in black or blue ink—which was useless to her. And very, very few had any pictures or diagrams to help her out.

She heaved a sigh, ramming her fiftieth book back into its place. She rubbed her aching neck and sat down in the furthest corner away from Loki. She crossed her legs, put her elbows on her knees and propped her head in her hands. Absently, she ran her eyes across the bottom shelf…

Paused.

There, on the spine of one of the books, gleamed a little gold picture of—unmistakably—a house.

A little house, with an arched front door.

She pulled it out. It was a thin red volume, light and easy to hold. She turned it. The same gold writing glittered on the cover.

And her fingertips tingled when she touched it.

"What is this?" she said out loud.

Loki didn't answer. She got up, moved her skirt out of the way so she wouldn't step on it, and carried it over to him. She held it out for him to see.

"What does this say?"

Clearly irritated, he dragged his attention away from the fire and looked over the cover. He lifted an eyebrow.

"Where did you get _this_? From the cookbooks?"

"What does it say?"

"It's stolen from the Light Elves," he said. "It won't do any good here."

"_What_ does it _say?_" Jane persisted.

He rolled his eyes, leaned forward and translated it.

"Practical Magic for Household Problems: Ideal for Housewives and Mothers." He fell back into his chair with a huff.

"Oh," Jane said in disappointment, turning the book back toward her.

"Yes, _oh_," Loki shook his head. "Go away." He turned his head back toward the fireplace.

Jane looked down at it, stepped away from him and opened the front cover. The pages smelled nice—like dried roses. She flipped through the rustling pages, intrigued to see quite a few pictures in this one: figures stirring, or mopping, or folding, or standing at a stove, or…

A door. A broad, bulky door, with a large lock in the center.

And beneath it…

Words.

Words she could read.

Her heart slowed. Her attention sharpened.

Well—she couldn't _read _them. It was still another language. But the letters looked almost familiar. She could sound them out.

"_San…Sannhet…"_ She tried. Cleared her throat. "_Sannhet-shesnakke."_

_DING. _

A soft ringing, like the _clink _of the last note of a music box, darted through the library. Jane twisted and looked up, listening as it danced up through the rafters like a loosed bird.

Eagerly, she turned back to the door.

It stayed where it was. She gritted her teeth and closed one hand into a fist.

"You know," she said, turning on Loki. "I do _not _want to spend a thousand years in here."

He turned his head the other way, as if he'd been watching her a second ago. He made a careless flicking gesture with his fingers and half shrugged.

"I _know _you don't want to stay sunk down here forever, either," she pressed. She shook the book with both hands. "And you can _read _all of this! Why don't you get up and come help me?"

He glanced at her.

"Because I'd rather just sit here and look at you."

Jane faltered.

Loki froze.

He jerked his head away, his eyes going wide. His lips parted—he stopped.

He closed his fingers around the armrest.

"What?" Jane's brow furrowed.

He gave her a caged, sideways look.

"What…" he said in a low tone. "…spell was that?"

"Which one?"

"Whatever you just said," he insisted, getting up from his chair and starting toward her. "What was that spell?"

"I don't know," she confessed. "It's…It's on this page…" She opened the book again and quickly flipped through it, then found the page with the large door. "This one," she pointed. "_San—"_

"Do _not _say it again," he said, snatching the book from her and quickly scanning it. The remaining color drained out of his face. "Oh, _Helheim _and all its bleeding, oozing demons…" he spat.

"What?" Jane cried. "What is it?"

He slammed it shut and turned on her.

"This is a truth-speak spell for _naughty children_," He waved the book through the air. "And it says, very clearly…" he flapped the book open again and pointed to a line. "'Beware: by dint of heart-magik, all answers shall be forced from their subjects, willing or not. All spoken words shall be truth in fact or essence according to the person upon whom the spell is cast. Use of this spell without the proper prefixes shall result in every inhabitant of the household—including the caster—being subject to its laws until the spell runs its course of two days.'" He slammed it shut again and tossed it onto the ground. It _slapped _the floor. He shook his head hard. "For a woman who is _utterly _beautiful and staggeringly clever, you have a remarkable talent for blundering headlong into stupidity."

Jane's breath caught and her face flushed.

Loki clenched his fists.

He stood stock still, refusing to look at her.

He started back toward his chair.

"And _what_?" Jane tried, recovering. "This…It makes you tell the truth? That…That _isn't _exactly a life-threatening problem. What's so scary about the truth?"

He whirled around.

"Truth is exposure," he snarled, stalking back toward her. "Truth is pain—a slap across the head. Pain that surprises you and bites you like a dog you thought you trusted."

Jane frowned, indignant.

"No, it isn't!"

He sneered.

"Oh, really? Well, let's have a go, then, shall we?" He canted his head. "What do you like most about Thor?"

"He looks good with his shirt off."

Jane said it. Out loud.

Her mouth fell open.

Loki snorted.

"Do you think he's a good man?"

"Yes."

"Do you think he's intelligent?"

"I…Not…as intelligent as I…am…" Jane answered, feeling a tight twist begin in her gut.

"Not even close?"

"…No…"

"Aha." Loki crossed his arms. "What do you have in common?"

"We…" Jane fought to make something up, but the only words that forced their way out of her mouth were… "I don't know. We both are interested in…Asgard."

"So," Loki raised his eyebrows. "You've really just been _using _him so you can learn more about his realm."

"No! Yes…I mean, no…yes. No," Jane babbled. She heaved a sigh, and pressed her hand to her forehead. "I don't know."

Loki narrowed his eyes.

"Do you love him?"

Jane swallowed. Loki leaned toward her.

"Do you love him?"

"No," she whispered. Tears pricked her eyes. He leaned back, gazing at her coldly.

She tried to think of something. Opened her mouth to retort something else, something about how she _could_, or _might _someday…

But then another thought about the beginning of this journey bumbled into her head—

"I think that other woman does," she stammered. "Whatever her name…Sif." Jane shifted in discomfort. "Does she?"

"Haha," Loki chuckled, kicking his head back. "Yes, she does—even though Thor stopped looking at her when her hair turned from gold to black and she blamed me. Even though I didn't do it."

He stopped again. Hesitated. Turned his shoulder to Jane, his mouth tightening.

Jane frowned, very careful.

"What do you mean?"

He did nothing for a long time. The fingers of his left hand worked. He swallowed, and halfway tilted his head toward her. And he let out a short, strained breath.

"It's what comes of your precious truth," he bit out. "I confessed to Thor I was in love with Sif. So he immediately began to court her. When I confided in Balder, he went behind my back and turned Sif's hair from gold to raven and blamed _me_." His voice became rocky. "And when I told her I hadn't done it, she slapped me in the face."

"But why?" Jane wanted to know. "Why didn't she believe you?"

Loki took a deep breath. Then another. Then another. He finally faced her, and spoke in a low, hoarse tone.

"All my life, ever since I was a little child, people have treated me differently," he said. "I was talented in magic and they weren't, so they became jealous and afraid of me. And when…a spell got loose of me…and burnt another little girl…I was forbidden to play with the other children." His mouth hardened again and he stared at the floor. "I disguised myself as other children so that I wouldn't be…so alone…" He swallowed, both his hands in fists now. "But the other boys found out, and plagued me afterward. Beat me, stole my food, laid traps for me…So…lies protected me. I was safer alone."

"So everyone was used to your lying," Jane realized. "They wouldn't believe you when you told the truth."

He glanced off to the side. Nodded.

"You…You liked Sif?" Jane squeezed her hands together.

"Yes. She is very beautiful," Loki answered.

"Yes, she is," Jane said.

Both of them stopped awkwardly.

Loki's whole upper body tightened, and he slowly stepped back toward his chair—reminding Jane of an injured predator doing its best to maintain a threatening front whilst it made its escape.

"Who is Balder?"

He froze. The skin around his eyes tightened.

"I don't want you to ask me that."

"You said something about Balder turning Sif's hair black," Jane reminded him. "But I don't know who he is. I mean, I've heard stories, but I can't imagine—"

Loki's left hand twitched toward his chest.

"I don't want you to ask me that," he hissed, staring at the fireplace. "Please don't ask me that."

"I can't help it. I'm too curious," Jane said—then bit her tongue and winced.

"Don't," he shivered.

"Why—?"

"Because I killed him!" Loki spun to face her, knocking against a little table. "He was my brother and I killed him."

Jane stared at him, horrified.

Loki's wide eyes caught hers, and he paled so that his lips turned gray.

"No, no—don't, you mustn't look at me that way," he held up a trembling hand. "It isn't…You don't understand. Why…It was an accident."

Jane waited, speechless. Loki pulled in a tearing breath and shook his head.

"Listen, you don't understand," he assured her. "I caught him one night forging a blade to murder Thor. But he discovered me, and threatened to tell the whole court what I was and ruin me, even though I didn't know what he meant. He'd fooled Mother into casting protective spells over him, so I made a small, weak arrow out of mistletoe, because it can break all enchantments, and I waited outside Thor's room, and when Balder came with the blade I shot at him, just aiming to break the spell, mind you." He looked at Jane, raised his eyebrows—then almost smiled in irony. "But somehow it went _through_ the spell and it hit him in the chest and he fell down…" His expression instantly transformed to one of horrified bewilderment. "And I went to him, and the arrow was sticking out of his chest and he was bleeding all over my hands—all over my hands—" Loki held out his palms, staring at them, but not as they were. "—and he couldn't breathe, and he said that now he'd saved Asgard from _me _because everyone would blame me for killing him and they would kill _me _too, and then he died right there, right there as I held him, he died, and I…" Loki's eyes, not seeing Jane anymore, spilled over with tears that streamed down his white face. "I ran away, but they caught me and they hit me in the head and in the face and dragged me in front of Father and they wouldn't listen to anything I told them, wouldn't believe me, and Mother wasn't there and Thor was with Balder's body in an antechamber and he didn't come to save me, and they chained me up underneath a snake that dripped poison down my back to torture me and kill me, and nobody came, but when someone finally came it was Thor, and I _made _him listen, and he found Heimdall who told them what had happened, and they finally let me go, but now I have black spidery scars all over my back and my arms and every year at that time I get sick and have nightmares and in order to force them to stop I have to go to his grave and lay flowers down—only it isn't his grave because they set him on fire and pushed him out in a boat, and…And he was our brother." Loki suddenly urgently searched Jane's face, tears running down. "He was our brother. How could he do that?"

Jane couldn't speak.

"He was my little brother and I loved him," Loki said sincerely, brow twisting. His breath quivered. "I loved him. He was my friend and my brother and I loved him. And he tried to kill Thor and he tried to kill me and I killed him. And it got all over my hands and it…and it sticks right here…" He pressed his fingers to his chest, right beneath his heart. "Like a thorn…between my ribs or a…a knife with a blade that's broken off." He blinked, tears gleaming on his cheeks. "Why would he do that?"

"I don't know," Jane whispered, tears of her own pricking her eyes. "It's…unfair."

"It _is _unfair!" he cried, taking a lock of his hair in his fist. "Unfair because I loved him and I _trusted _him—and he never told me the truth. He kept it to himself _what_ I was and _where_ I'd come from, even though he _knew_—" Loki swiped an empty vial off a table and it smashed on the floor. "He didn't tell me and then he died and I had to find out on Thor's _coronation _day that everything I thought I knew and everything that everybody had ever told me was a _lie_—And why _should _he love me in return? Why should anyone? Why should Sif or Thor or Mother and Father? I'm nothing but a Jotun runt that nobody wanted so my parents left me outside in the snow when I was born so I could die without making too much noise…"

Jane's lips parted. Her entire chest clenched in sudden, sharp anguish.

"What? How could they do that?" she breathed, her tears tumbling down now.

"Because they're barbarians," he snarled at her. "They're savages and monsters—exactly what the stories always said. The parents who gave birth to me thought I was too little so they threw me down outside during a _battle_, and Father found me and took me home but he never told me what I was, that I was Laufey's son and a savage just like them," Loki gestured wildly. "So my whole _life_ I thought I was a prince of Asgard but I wasn't, I'm not—I thought Thor was truly my brother and he isn't—I have no one, I _am _no one, just a pawn in the hands of galactic puppet-masters that invade my mind and trick me into laying siege to other realms only to pull support out from beneath me so I disgrace myself—"

"New York?" Jane realized. "Is that…Is that what you're talking about? When you invaded New York?"

He suddenly sighed, turning a pained, defeated look to her. He shook his head again.

"I never had a chance," he choked. His tears flowed, dripping off his jaw. He snarled his nose. "They only wanted chaos and death and they got that—they didn't care what happened to me! _Nobody did!" _

"Thor did," Jane whispered.

Loki's hand twitched toward his heart again and he glanced away.

"Thor…did. Yes." His lower lip trembled. "But that's all ruined now. All of it. I've done the unforgivable and he knows it."

"But…not if you go after him," Jane said, quickly swiping at her face. "If you get out of here and rescue him from—"

"That won't mend what's wrong!" Loki snapped, turning his back to her. "It's all wreck and ruin—it can't ever be the way it was before—"

"Why not?" Jane cried.

"Because my _mother died!"_ he howled. "My mother died and it is _my fault!"_

Jane covered her mouth.

Loki shoved a tall tower of books.

They crashed to the floor, splaying loudly all across it.

He whirled, slapped another bottle off a table—it flew through the air and exploded against one of the shelves. He staggered to the side, struck a desk—it crashed to the floor. His knees gave out and he sat down hard. Took a fistful of his hair, leaned sideways against a large cedar chest, pulled his knees in and broke into wrenching sobs.

Jane's throat caught and her face twisted, though she fought to stay silent. Tears ran down her cheeks and she wiped them away. She sucked in three deep breaths, steadying herself…

Then started forward.

She picked her way across the broken glass, her feet crunching on the shards—feeling her way between the spilled books and knocked-over tables, as if crawling over the wreckage of a bombed building. She edged around a little tipped cabinet and drew up next to Loki's side. His strangled, exhausted cries echoed through the tall, empty room.

The hearth crackled, barely touching him with edges of golden light. He hid his face with his right forearm.

Jane knelt down. Settled onto the floor right beside his left hip. She took another breath, gazing steadily at him. Her eyebrows drew together, and she set her mouth.

"Come here," she murmured, with decision. She reached out with her left hand and curled her fingers through his. With her right hand, she tugged on his sleeve.

His hand tensed immediately, feebly trying to get loose, but she slid her other hand beneath his forearm, and pulled again. Gently, but stubbornly.

He gasped, his arm coming loose of his face. He tried to turn his face from her, so she wouldn't see how wet with tears it was—or how his brilliant eyes suddenly reflected every bit of light in the room. She squeezed his hand, and kept pulling.

"Come here," she ordered quietly. "Loki."

He sat up off the chest. Wouldn't look at her—his throat spasmed. Jane scooted closer to him.

"Loki," she murmured, coaxing. "Come on."

He sat for a moment, staring blankly. She didn't release her pressure.

He tipped toward her. Stiffened, and screwed his eyes shut. Tears ran down his nose. She slipped her arm up, around his shoulders—put her hand against the back of his head. Pulled on him one last time.

He gave way.

He leaned down, laying his forehead on her shoulder, letting out a stuttering, broken sigh, then gasping as if he was coming up for air.

His body slackened—Jane quickly wrapped her right arm around his head and pressed her hand the top of it, weaving her fingers through his feather-like hair. With her other hand, she took hold of his right arm, to steady him—

And suddenly, he released a cry that ripped Jane's heart in two.

He wrapped his arm tight around her waist and buried his face in her neck. She gripped him tighter.

Hot tears ran down Jane's neck. His distressed breathing rang in her ears.

"Shh," she urged, glancing up at the ceiling as her eyes filled again. "Shh, you have to breathe. I know…I know what this—this is like. I do. Just breathe for a second. Breathe, come on…"

His arm around her fumbled—he choked.

"That's it," she nodded. "Breathe. Deep breaths, Loki. One at a time…"

Softly, she began rocking him back and forth. She rubbed her hand up and down, up and down his arm.

"Shh, shh," she soothed, closing her eyes and laying her cheek against his head. "Shh, shh…"

He choked, twitching tiredly. She squeezed his arm a moment before rubbing up and down, up and down again.

"Shh, shh," she whispered, so grateful that he couldn't see her own tears. "Shh. Everything is going to be okay. I promise. I promise. Everything will be okay."

_To be continued…_

_Please review!_


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